Roadkill
by catfoxy
Summary: After a successfully completed mission, sometimes the deadliest part of the road still lies before you... - - FINAL CHAPTERS now up! -
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:: _

_This story intends absolutely NO disrespect to the truly fine men and women who do their job as police officers out there every day. It's just that I got an idea from a picture I saw the other day. It was a behind the scenes shot of TC during the bridge scene of MI3. He was wearing his black jeans, black shirt and the brown jacket, zipped open. He was standing with his arms up, gesturing, probably telling someone 'I would like this to look like THIS.' But from another perspective, it could have also looked like ETHAN was standing with his hands up, placating someone who was about to draw a gun on him._

_Which got me thinking...and it set the tone for the story._

_Summary: After a successfully completed mission, sometimes the deadliest part of the road still lies before you…_

**Roadkill**

He should have known the day wasn't over yet.

It had been one hell of a long mission. Followed by an even more extensive debriefing session at IMF headquarters. And then – to top things off – he had been asked to give another personal report to the Secretary himself.

By the time Ethan had gotten out of the building, his team had gone home and was probably long asleep. It was already dark outside. With any luck, he'd be home before midnight.

That is, if that sound behind him didn't mean what he thought it meant.

"Oh not you, too…" Ethan groaned, almost sure now that some kind of gigantic cosmic joke was being played on him.

"Please, pull past me, please," he groaned in denial as he slowly took the foot off the accelerator of his Mustang, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

But he had heard right. The short _whup_ _whup_ of a police cruiser siren lit up the night behind him once more.

"You gotta be kidding me…" Ethan shook his head in disbelieve.

He hadn't been speeding. His beloved dark-green Mustang certainly wasn't stolen, either. And having the best IMF mechanics at his disposal at all times, he also knew that the car was in top condition. It had to be, considering his line of duty. He always made sure of it.

So, for the life of him, he had no idea why they were pulling him over.

But they would probably tell him in a minute.

And then they'd better just let him go on his way. All he wanted was to get home and fall into bed.

So. Let's get this over with.

As he pulled over on the curb of the otherwise empty side street, he could see the two cops step out of their cruiser, and as he waited with his right hand comfortably resting on the steering wheel and his left in the open window, he saw them approach his car from behind. One of them lagged a little behind his partner, staying to Ethan's passenger side. The other officer came up to his window.

"Good, evening sir. Can you show us your license and registration, please?"

Not knowing what they were looking for, but figuring that if he just let them do their stuff, he'd be out of here faster, he simply fished out the documents from his pocket and handed them over.

The cop on his driver's side then concentrated on the papers, while his colleague shone his flashlight into the car and at Ethan through the passenger window.

"We pulled you over because you were speeding, Sir. I'm afraid we'll have to give you a ticket. It's gonna cost you a little, Sir."

What?

Hang on a second…

"Excuse me?" Ethan reacted. He was tired, but his mind was now starting to focus on what the officer had said. And frankly, he wasn't sure he had heard right.

The second cop had meanwhile walked from Ethan's open window to the backdoor right behind Ethan, where he opened it without even asking Ethan for permission.

"Hey, Jimmy, I think I also see some illegal substances on the backseat," the officer called over to his colleague – and then he threw a tiny bag of what looked like white powder onto the backseat.

"Yeah, Mike, I think we got ourselves a felon here. Let's see what he has to say for himself."

The cop at the passenger window of Ethan's car was now smiling, and took in Ethan's frown with a smug look.

"Sir, would you care to explain what those drugs are doing in your car? And why you were trying to race away from us? You know that's gonna cost you, right?"

Ethan's frown turned into a look of realization, as it dawned on him what was really going on.

'Dirty cops.'

These two were obviously trying to fill their quota, and their wallets, by framing innocents. And with most people – particularly those who didn't dare speak up against two burly officers – it probably even worked.

"Why do I have to get these bozos?' Ethan thought with a sigh.

Alright, time to show them that they had gotten the wrong target to play catch with tonight.

"Listen, _officers_," and he made sure to put an emphasis on the second word, to show them they didn't really deserve to be called by that title, "I think I can see where you're going with this, so I _suggest_ – in the interest of both our evenings – that you put that bag back where it came from before I start thinking about filing a complaint against you, for falsely pulling me over for speeding when clearly I wasn't."

Ethan's tone would have made everyone who knew him take a large step backwards, wish him a good day and stay perfectly clear off him for the rest of the year, preferably on another continent.

Benji had been on the receiving end of this tone once, when he had managed to damage Ethan's favorite jazz LP in an accident involving popcorn, the kitchen stove and lots of panic on Benji's behalf. Ethan had _not_ been happy. So, had Benji been here now, he could have emphatically testified to the fact that Ethan was well on his way to getting seriously pissed off.

These two rotten apples, however, either didn't realize they were playing with fire, or they simply didn't think that Ethan was a match for them.

"I'm afraid that we'll have to disagree with that, Sir. And if you wanna avoid some serious trouble with us, I suggest we better talk about how high a fine you're willing to pay to us for getting this taken care of right here and right now." The officer smoothly looked around to make sure there were still no other cars or pedestrians nearby. Then he leaned down slightly, also lowering his voice as he addressed Ethan once more: "And don't worry about filing any complaints." The man smiled darkly. "We are officers of the state. So our word will outweigh any complaint you might feel like filing."

Ethan almost said out loud 'Wanna bet on that?', but he caught himself just in time. No need to give them a clue as to his real profession. He could handle these two without them finding out there even was such a thing as an 'IMF agent".

The second officer, on the passenger side of the car, was now shining his flashlight right into Ethan's face, blinding him on purpose.

"You wanna avoid serious trouble, boy, I suggest you step out of this car now, and you hand over some cash…"

Ethan closed his eyes for a second. It was late. It was dark. His plan had been to go home, go to bed and get some sleep. Not this. In fact, the mere idea of getting out of his comfortable car in this section of the city was very, very low on his list of things he wanted to do at this moment.

But seeing as he obviously needed to give these two 'officers' a more detailed explanation of how they were very much barking up the wrong tree, Ethan slowly unbuckled his seatbelt to comply with their order to get out.

"Alright, let me rephrase this in a way that even you will understand." Ethan said as he opened the driver's door and slid out of his seat, using one hand as leverage on the steering wheel and the other on the door frame to pull himself up. As he got out, he took care not to make any fast moves, keeping his hands slightly raised and visible at all times.

But he never even thought twice about the way his jacket moved as he got out.

If he had, he might have been prepared.

But he wasn't.

He had just put one foot on the ground, and was about to fully straighten up, when the one officer noticed the slight bulge under the right side of Ethan's jacket, where the elbow met the ribs. Whatever was under the jacket was still fully covered, but the shape was there.

Instinctively, the officer - no matter how rotten he was in the rest of his duties - yelled at his partner to warn him:

"Gun!"

Ethan was a trained agent. He was fast. But, taking into consideration the long day he had had, he was a second too slow to understand that the gun in question here was the same one that was safely holstered under his jacket.

By the time Ethan noticed his mistake, the second officer had already drawn his gun…and fired.

At first, Ethan didn't feel anything wrong.

Then there was a strange weakness in his left side. Like he had slept on it wrong. As he looked down, he saw a hole in his jacket, also in his shirt, just beneath his rib line. He saw it, he just couldn't feel it…yet.

But as he was about to wonder why he wasn't feeling anything – the pain came. And it came on full force. Like a kick to the gut, only a thousand times worse.

He felt his feet go out from under himself as he collapsed, his body falling sideways against his car. His arm struck on the open car door, and then he slid down against it to the ground. He came to lie on his left side, his head on the ground, and his eyes reacting sluggishly in surprise and shock.

His mouth was open, moving slightly, but no words were coming out.

"Shit! You shot him!"

"Damn it…he had a gun… the guy had a gun!" the first officer looked in panic at his partner, refusing to take any blame for what he'd done, "…he was gonna go for it! You saw him! He was gonna go for it!"

"Jes-.. This could become messy, man…," the other officer took a closer look at the fallen man on the ground, before addressing his partner once more, "You know that if he tells anyone what happened, we could be in trouble, right? Even if nobody's gonna believe him, but there's gonna be an investigation – shit, this was only supposed to work when they paid up and shut their mouth! But this is fucked up, man…this is _bad_…"

"Okay. Okay, calm down, man. We gotta…we gotta think…let's say we make it look like he really was going for his gun…. Aw shit…you're right… they're gonna check everything…we can't risk that. We can't risk it!"

"Let's get rid of him. Make it look like a gang shooting. We were never here… people die in this part of the city every day. This one won't be any different. Just look at the car. He's probably some hotshot single, nobody's waiting at home for that guy. And even if there is, so what. If he's dead, he can't tell anybody what happened. And we're wearing gloves, they can't trace us!"

"Yeah….yeah, that could work." the first officer warmed up to his partner's idea, and quickly looked around himself once more, to make sure they still hadn't been noticed, before he said, "Alright, let's do this."

Immediately, they began moving. One of them stepped around the open driver's door to open the door in the back. He quickly grabbed the small cocaine bag from the backseat, pocketing it, so as not to leave any evidence of their presence behind. Meanwhile, his partner knelt down next to the man on the ground, careful to avoid the growing puddle of blood spreading slowly on the concrete.

With a none-too-gentle move, he put the driver's license and registration back into the bleeding man's back pocket, giving him a last once-over before getting up again to see if they had missed anything else. But they were clean. Nobody had seen them. And a single shot in the night was nothing to be remembered, certainly not at this time of day and in this part of the city.

So as both officers took one more look at the bleeding man lying next to his car, they quickly re-holstered their guns and hurriedly moved back to their police cruiser. Once they were back in their car, they reported back to the station that they were now on the clock again after their midnight snack break. Then they took off without sirens or lights, not drawing any further attention to themselves until they were well out of sight.

No one would make the connection.

The guy they had shot would just die.

And nobody would ever know.

-o-o-o-o-o-

_Don't worry, this is just the beginning…_

_Consider it an appetizer. More to come, soon. Feedback will help. :o)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Location:__Benji's living room_

"Are you gonna drink that or fall asleep in it?" Brandt asked softly with a chuckle, as he saw Jane's head slowly tilt forward, now almost touching the half-empty glass of Ginger Ale in her hand.

"Wh-uh?" Jane quickly came awake again.

"Good morning…or should I say good night?" Brandt inquired jokingly.

"I guess it really was a long day," Jane admitted, before she glanced at her watch, "We should probably call it a night, huh?" Jane conceded with a smile.

Brandt glanced to his left, where Benji was already softly snoring on his sofa.

"I think that is a unanimous 'yes'." Brandt nodded with a muffled laugh, slowly rising off the comfy chair he'd been sitting in. It was time to wrap up this party.

On any other day, Ethan would have been right with them. In fact, they had waited for Ethan after the debriefing, as they often took the opportunity to regroup at one of their homes after a successful mission. Just a little nightcap in the safety of friends, so they could all come down from the strain of the mission, before they would then go on to their own homes.

But when they had left the debriefing earlier tonight, they had seen that Ethan had been caught up at the office, something about another meeting with the Secretary.

Ethan had already looked pretty tired at that point. He had spotted them waiting outside the briefing room, and the slight wave of his hand had told them that he wished them all a good night, which meant he would probably drive straight home after he was done. He certainly deserved a good night's sleep.

Their last mission, while not exactly high-risk, had been high-stress and most of it had landed right on Ethan's shoulders. How he had even remained focused by the end of the mission, was something they could only marvel at. They really hoped the Secretary would keep the extra meeting short – Ethan might appear invincible, but even he had to sleep at some point.

When Jane and Brandt finally called it a night at Benji's place, they took a moment to relocate the still snoring Benji to his bedroom, where he would be more comfortable. After putting their glasses into the sink and closing the lid on Benji's jar of self-baked cookies, they eventually locked the front door behind them, and wished each other a good night. Jane gave her colleague a last parting wave as Brandt drove past her with his car, just as she got into hers.

But before Jane started her own car to drive home, she decided to give Ethan another quick call, to see if he had also made it home yet. With Ethan, you never knew. If that new Secretary of theirs accidentally found the right words, it was entirely possible that Ethan was already being briefed on another mission. Sometimes, the man just didn't know when to say 'no'.

So she called him up.

He didn't answer his phone.

Alright. Maybe he was already home. If he had made it to bed, she wouldn't put it past him to have relocated his phone as far away from his bedroom as humanly possible. Alright, tactic number 2. She decided to send him a text message that he could read whenever he woke up tomorrow morning.

So she typed:

_Stopped over at Benji's. The guy snores. Saved you some cookies. Can meet for team-breakfast in the morning. Night, boss. _

She hit Send and then, looking forward to her own bed, she finally went on home.

-o-o-o-o-

He was dying. He could feel it. He's been swimming in and out of consciousness for the past ten minutes. He knew he was losing blood. Lots of it, if the wetness beneath his ribs was anything to go by. He barely felt it anymore. His vision was hazy. His ears were ringing, so badly it was bringing him back to the surface once more…

The ringing didn't stop. It hurt. It _really_ made his head hurt…and the more it hurt, the louder it became… it got louder, because _he_ was becoming more aware…

A phone. A phone was ringing.

'My phone' the thought flickered through his head, but it was hard to hold on to it, hard to _think_.

Slowly, painfully slow, his head moved…it rolled to the side, until he could see where the sound was coming from.

Inside his jacket.

The jacket that was drenched in something sticky, something….that he didn't even want to think about too much….but he forced himself to move his hand towards the sound.

The ringing stopped.

But his thoughts were a little clearer know.

He had to get to his phone. A phone equalled help.

His knuckles painfully scraped across the ground, as he reached with blood-slippery fingers inside his jacket, were he finally grasped the phone. In the end, it practically fell out of his pocket, because he could barely hold on to it. He tried to focus on the screen of the phone.

By the time his fingers began to move across the touch screen, he wasn't really sure what keys he was actually hitting. He could no longer see them clearly. All he had was his memory to go by, and that was fading fast. He tried to make it count, to move his fingers, establish a connection – but it got dark around him again before he ever found out whether he had actually succeeded.

-o-o-o-o-o-

As Jane opened the door to her house, the first thing she did was to throw the keys on the sideboard behind the door, adding her phone to the keys as she slipped out of her jacket. Dropping her shoes as she went, she headed on into the living room, where she switched on the TV. Only half listening to it, she then went on to get ready for bed, as she disappeared in the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She never heard her phone ring.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The phone fell from his fingers, landing on the concrete with a small, clattering sound. Then, there was only silence.

-o-o-o-o-o-

She was looking forward to putting her head on the pillow. But on the way from the bathroom to the bedroom, Jane remembered that, unlike Ethan, she had wanted to bring her phone into the bedroom with her. In case Ethan decided to call her in the morning, she wanted to have it nearby.

Switching off the TV as she walked across the living room once more, she picked up her phone from the sideboard without even looking at, and was about to just carry it into the bedroom, when she noticed she had one missed call. It was a message. So she called up the text.

It was one word.

_'Help'_

At firsts she thought she read it wrong, that this was a joke. Then she felt a weary feeling grab her. This was no joke. The call had come from Ethan's number.

And for Ethan to give a call for help – shit, something had to be seriously wrong.

Immediately she tried calling Ethan's number again. Again, there was no answer. She quickly hung up to make another call. This time she was answered with a sleepy voice.

"Benji Dunn."

"Benji, I need you to get on your computer and track Ethan's phone down, now!"

"Wh-a..?" Benji clearly wasn't awake, "Why d' ya wamme me t' …?" he slurred.

"Benji, I think Ethan is in trouble. I need you to track him, NOW!"

That woke Benji up.

"Uh-o-okay. I'm up, I'm up, I'm on it..I'm…."

"Benji, just do it!"

"Doing it…am doing it…" She could now hear clicking sounds.

She remembered she had once said in joke that he probably slept with one of those laptops under his pillow. Well, if he managed to help her with this now, she would never hassle him about it ever again.

"Okay, uhm…he's…there's uhm…okay, I think I got him…..he's at… at 4th and Brunswick Road, that's about three miles away from the IMF headquarters." Then Benji seemed to realize what he had just said. "Wait a minute; did they call him _back_ there? I thought he wanted to go ho-"

"Benji, he just called me, it was a one-word message. He wrote 'help'. So whatever happened, I don't think he ever made it home. You gotta call Brandt and then you two get to these coordinates yesterday. I'm on my way, as well.'

She didn't wait for Benji to acknowledge her orders; instead she simply hung up and grabbed the nearest pair of jeans from the arm of her couch, threw on a shirt and her shoes. She then grabbed her gun and keys, the phone still in her hand, and raced out the door.

She drove straight in the direction of the IMF. About three miles away from it, she took a turn onto another road, which intercrossed with the one that Ethan must have taken on his way home from the IMF. She was aware that Ethan's route went through an area that she usually didn't travel through at night. Not that she was scared, and she was pretty sure that Ethan didn't think twice about this either – but still, it was a part of the city where you could easily get mugged and nobody would look at you twice.

'Help'

The message still in her mind, she wondered if Ethan had perhaps somehow gotten involved in some sort of hold-up, maybe he had been trying to help someone. Or perhaps he'd seen something go down, a drug deal or something. Maybe his call for help had merely been a request for backup before he went to check it out. Another other option was that he had perhaps gotten in the way of a gang dispute, and now needed help to get out of whatever tight spot he had maneuvered himself into.

She just didn't know. But with every mile she got closer, her imagination got worse.

Still, it didn't prepare her for what she saw when she finally spotted Ethan's car in the distance. It was parked in a deserted side street, pulled over at the curb, the driver's door was open.

From her angle, she couldn't see more yet. But when she drove closer, she saw that there was something lying next to the open door.

No. Not something.

Someone.

And whoever it was, he was lying with his head down, half on his side and half with his face on the ground.

As she got closer, she felt her heart stop, when she saw the familiar outline of a jacket she knew.

The man on the ground… that was Ethan.

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued…_

_Up Next: Let's find out how Ethan is doing. And once we get the whole team out there, I have a feeling they will also want to know who's responsible for this whole mess._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I simply love writing, and it's always nice to know that people actually read my stuff. LOL_

_So, thanks for your feedback, you guys and gals rock! Keep it comin'! :o)_

_-o-_

_-o-_

**Chapter 3**

She had her phone in her hand before she even knew she had pulled it from her pocket. Pulling up next to Ethan's car, she hurriedly told the operator to get an ambulance to this address, and to do it "RIGHT NOW!". Then she threw the phone down on her passenger seat and jumped out as soon as her car came to a halt.

Within seconds she was at Ethan's side, taking in the horrific sight before her as she knelt down next to him.

"Ethan. Ethan can you hear me?"

Her words were frantic and scared, but she knew she couldn't lose it now. So she forced herself to fall back onto her training as an agent.

'Come on, Jane, keep it together, focus on Ethan.'

She could see the large puddle of blood underneath his entire left side. It had to be coming from somewhere. If she wanted to help him, she had to find out where all the blood was coming from.

Carefully pulling Ethan's upper body off the ground, she rolled him over onto his back, to reveal the front of his blood-soaked jacket. It was difficult to get the zipper open, but when she did, the jacket easily came apart to uncover the shirt beneath.

"God, Ethan…"

She felt sick. The wound looked like nothing she had ever seen before – at least not on someone who had still been alive. The bullet seemed to have hit Ethan at close range just beneath his ribs, where it had then traveled through his body, leaving an ugly hole in his side before it exited through his back. His entire shirt was dark and sodden.

And the wound was still bleeding. This, as she realized with a glimmer of hope, had to mean that Ethan's heart was still beating. She instantly reached her hand to his throat to confirm her thought.

'Yes!' she thought with a flicker of relief, as she felt the soft throbbing of a weak pulse against her fingers. He was still fighting. He was still alive.

"Come on, Ethan, stay with me…," she begged, as she went about stemming the bleeding as best as she could. She moved his arm away from the wound, and used her flat hand to press on his side, while with her other hand she tried to assert pressure against the exit wound in his back.

With concern she noticed how Ethan didn't even react to the move. She had to be hurting him with what she was doing. And while he clearly wasn't conscious, she knew that even when you were under, you _could_ feel pain. The fact that he still didn't react at all made a cold shiver of fear run down her spine.

She tried to keep up the pressure against Ethan's wound even when her hands began to cramp after a while. Soon, she could hear sirens in the distance. That was the one good thing about this area of the city – the EMT response times were usually very good, if for no other reason than sheer practice.

Just as the ambulance pulled up behind Ethan's car, she could also hear a second car come to a screeching halt from the other direction, although from her position between her own car and Ethan's Mustang, she couldn't see who else had arrived. But when she heard the sound of an engine being killed harshly, it was Brandt's voice that instantly cut through the night:

"Jane?"

"Brandt, get over here, I need more hands!"

It wasn't often that Brandt heard that tone of voice from Jane. But as soon as he did, he began moving.

When Brandt stormed around her car and came into her line of view, she looked up at him with panicked eyes. Benji was following right on Brandt's heels, having obviously been picked up by Brandt, as Benji's apartment lay right on his way. Both could see that Jane was close to losing it.

As Brandt rushed over to help her, he took in for the first time the full extent of Ethan's injuries.

"Jane?" Brandt asked again as he knelt down, and for a moment he actually feared that Ethan was already dead, "what happened…?"

But before Jane could answer him, the ambulance crew was suddenly there as well. Not wanting to be in their way, Benji and Brandt quickly let them past. Sparing a comforting look at Jane, one of the EMTs took over for her, efficiently replacing her blood-stained hands with several large pressure compresses against Ethan's side and back.

Like in a trance, they all then watched as the ambulance crew began working on Ethan. With well-practiced moves, one of the EMTs quickly set up an emergency blood-transfusion kit, effortlessly inserting the lines in Ethan's right arm to start replacing the blood Ethan had already lost. Working in perfect concert with his colleague, the EMT on Ethan's left immediately started setting up another IV line in Ethan's other arm.

The EMT's faces were serious as they worked, their moves becoming more rushed as Ethan's vitals got worse. One of the EMTs called in some numbers through his radio, apparently reporting his findings to the hospital dispatch in a tense voice. The reply from the radio was too low for Jane, Brandt or Benji to hear, but from the frown on the EMTs face they could tell it wasn't good.

Behind them, the third EMT, who had driven the ambulance, was already getting the gurney out of the back, so they could transport Ethan to the nearest hospital as soon as he was ready. Brandt went to help the man, while Jane and Benji moved closer to where Ethan was being prepped for transport.

One of the EMTs was just placing a long, two-piece board next to Ethan. With a smoothness born from experience, the two men then moved Ethan's body onto the board. Spotting Jane and Benji from the corner of his eye, the one EMT then called out to them, telling them that they could help.

Seeing Brandt and the ambulance driver approach with the gurney, Benji and Jane didn't hesitate to grab a hold of the two front corners of the board, to help lift Ethan's body off the ground and onto the waiting gurney. As soon as Ethan was settled, the EMTs began moving, one of them jumping ahead into the back of the ambulance, while the ambulance driver went to the front to start the car.

Brandt gave the remaining EMT outside a hand, helping him push the gurney inside the ambulance. As the gurney went in, Jane moved in with it, her hand having taken a hold of Ethan's. She knew he probably couldn't even feel it, but on the off-chance that he did, she wanted him to know that he was safe. That his team had found him and all he had to do was to hold on now.

All the prodding and bouncing of being placed into the back of the ambulance seemed to meanwhile have succeeded in getting through to Ethan after all. As Jane watched his head roll slowly to the side, she could see the sinews in his neck strain against the pain he had to be feeling. He was still out, but obviously close enough to the surface now to actually _feel _the pain again.

In the whirlwind of activity around her, Jane gave Ethan's hand another soft squeeze, letting him know that he was not alone, and that he needed to keep fighting. After a moment, she thought she could actually feel a slight movement in the hand she was holding.

But then Jane was interrupted by the second EMT, who was now getting into the back of the ambulance right behind her.

"Miss… I'm afraid you'll have to follow us in your own car." The man looked apologetic but unwavering, as he put a hand on her arm to help her step past him, "We'll need to monitor your friend closely and there's just not enough room for any more people in here. I'm sorry."

Jane knew it was in the best interest of Ethan. She _knew _that. Still, it wasn't easy to let go of Ethan's hand. But the understanding look in the EMT's eyes told her that the sooner they could leave, the sooner Ethan would get the help he needed. So, in the end, Jane reluctantly slid her hand out of Ethan's fingers, and she let the EMT move past her into the seat she had vacated.

She then moved the three feet to the back door of the ambulance, reaching for a hold on the wall to step outside.

That's when she heard it.

And her head turned back to Ethan so fast it almost gave her whiplash.

At first she thought she had just imagined it. Because Ethan was still lying motionlessly, and his eyes were still closed.

But his _lips_…

They were moving. Almost imperceptibly.

It was nothing but a voiceless whisper underneath the oxygen mask that had been put on his face to help him breathe. But as she looked closer, _really_ looked, she saw him form just one word, before he once again lost the fight with unconsciousness.

In shock, Jane registered only vaguely how the EMT once more told her to please step down so they could leave, and she could feel herself comply, if slowly.

As she stepped outside, Benji and Brandt were waiting for her, giving her a hand down the step. Still clearly in shock, they all then watched the doors close as the ambulance pulled away with its sirens on, headed out at high speed to the nearest hospital.

In the end, it was Brand who turned to Jane first. He _really_ needed some answers after the enormity of what he had just witnessed. Frankly, he had gotten out here operating on nothing but Benji's vague explanation that there might be *trouble*. But never, not in a million years, would he have thought that Benji's definition of 'trouble' would result in them coming here to find Ethan bleeding to death in the middle of a dirty street. Never.

So Brandt asked the one question that was on the forefront of his mind:

"What on earth happened to Ethan?"

Jane, for a moment, simply stared after ambulance, too shocked to even acknowledge Brandt's question. When she finally focused on Brandt, the expression on her face was one of shock, worry and … anger.

"Police."

"What?" Brandt asked, unsure of how Jane thought the police could help her answer his question.

"I heard Ethan say it, right before he went under again."

"You mean some _cops_ did this?" Benji was the first to suddenly grasp what Jane seemed to be saying. And his voice clearly showed how weird the idea was to him.

Jane, for her part, knew exactly how far-fetched it sounded. And maybe she had really just imagined it, or perhaps she had even misunderstood Ethan. She wasn't sure of anything at the moment. The only thing she knew was this:

If Ethan _had_ tried to tell her something, then it was too important to be ignored.

So when she looked at Brandt and Benji, she made sure they understood how serious she was about checking _any_ possibility, no matter how absurd it was:

"I don't know… but we'll find out." There was an almost eerie determination in her voice, as she looked after the ambulance in the distance, as it slowly disappeared from view.

"For now, let's follow Ethan. I wanna make sure he's safe."

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued …_

_Up next: Let's follow Ethan to the hospital, shall we? And then we can find out what an angry team will do, once they start uncovering the truth._


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note:_

_First of all, to all of you who follow my stories, thank you very much for your feedback. _

_And, in answer to the question_ _posted by _Sherlock'n'Hunt_, let me just say that the team understands your wish to help track down the attackers, but they prefer to take care of this on their own. It's kinda personal for them, ya know? ;)_

_-o-_

**Chapter 4**

When they arrived at the hospital, they were told that Ethan had been brought straight into the operating room. And, as the nurse at the reception desk was explaining to them for about the third time in as many minutes, no, they could NOT follow him in there. They would have to wait.

And they did. For almost 4 hours.

By that time, none of them had any illusions left that a surgery as long as this one was anything but normal. Whatever was happening in there, they didn't know. But the fact that not even one nurse had come out of that room in four hours, was a sure sign that things were more than serious - Ethan was fighting for his life in there.

After what felt like another hour, they all suddenly heard the door of the operating room open, and one man stepped out, pulling off a surgical mask as he walked towards them. Since they were the only ones left in the waiting room at that time, they knew that the man had to be Ethan's doctor.

"You are here for Mr. Hunt?" the man approached them with a non-decipherable look. He did, however, sound very tired. As they nodded in confirmation of his question, he looked each of them right in the eye, before his gaze settled on Brandt, whom he identified as the leader of the group.

"I'm afraid it doesn't look good. As you can probably gather from the time we spent in there trying to help your friend, there were several complications." He now looked at Jane and Benji, as well, and came to the conclusion that these three people before him were able to handle the truth. "We lost him twice on the table. He simply stopped breathing. However, both times we were able to bring him back."

He paused a moment before he continued:

"The bullet that hit him nicked his liver. It also took out two of his ribs, driving several bone splinters into his lungs. We tried to replace the blood he had already lost from the wound itself, but coupled with the internal bleeding, the strain this was taking on his heart became simply too big a risk."

"So what are you saying, doctor?"

"I'm saying that we managed to repair as much as we could, but there is just too much damage to his lungs to risk further surgery until at least some of his strength has returned. We uhm… we've induced a coma to reduce the stress on his body for the time being. His injuries are simply too severe, and his body just can't handle much more at this point."

When he saw Jane's devastated expression, he added:

"We're hoping to let him build up some of his strength, so we can go back in and repair the remaining damage caused by the actual bullet. But I won't lie to you…there is a chance we might not be able to. It all depends on whether he makes it through the next 24 hours."

That last sentence pulled the rug out from under their feet. Benji even paled visibly.

"Can we see him?" Brandt was the first to find his voice again.

The doctor looked at them again, trying to gauge how he should answer the question. Frankly, he didn't know who these people were. They certainly didn't look like relatives. But, compared to some of the relatives of patients he had seen in his time as a doctor, these three people before him obviously cared more about the man in the operating room than any family ever could.

So, albeit it went entirely against the rules of the hospital, the doctor made a decision that felt absolutely right to him as a human being.

"Alright, you may go in. But only for a moment. We're gonna relocate him from this floor up into the ICU in a couple of minutes. You'll have to leave then."

"Alright."

"Thanks."

"Thank you."

The doctor then showed them to the smaller side-room next to the operating room, reminding them once again that they should keep their visit short, and not to expect too much.

As they walked into the room, the first thing they saw was the six beds before them, three on each side of the room. Only two were occupied. But it was the one that stood the farthest away, in the far left corner of the room, where several nurses were currently busy setting up fresh IV lines and readjusting monitors to record any changes in the vitals of the man on the bed.

When the swarm of nurses seemed to slowly dissipate, with only one nurse remaining near one of the monitors for observation, the team still stayed slightly back, not wanting to intrude or be in the way. But the nod from the nurse and her 'it's okay' gesture of hand let them know that it was okay to move forward.

So they did.

Ethan was sleeping. At least, he looked like he was sleeping. Until you took in the sight of the tube in his throat and the numerous lines running to and from his arms. And the completely unusual paleness on his face. And the fact that Ethan never – _never_ – was so still, even in his sleep. That last detail, more than anything else, told them that this wasn't just sleep.

This… this wasn't Ethan.

The image of the man lying before them now, completely motionless and barely breathing on his own, was impossible to reconcile with the always moving, always active Ethan Hunt that they knew.

And they still had no idea how all this had happened.

But they swore to find out.

-o-o-o-o-o-

They eventually left the hospital at around 5am. But not before checking that Ethan was safely settled in a private ICU room, and that he had some extra security standing guard right outside his door.

Brandt was not gonna take any chances with Ethan's life. Until they knew what the hell happened last night, they would cover all their bases, up to and including the possibility that whoever had tried to kill Ethan might try it again. Hence the full-time IMF protection detail outside his room.

Brandt had personally picked two of the best men he knew for the job. And they had been instructed that even if God himself asked for access to Ethan's room, they would still have to check back with either Jane, Benji or himself before they let ANYone into Ethan's room who wasn't either his authorized doctor or one of the nurses that Brandt had pointed out.

But that had been all they had been able to do at the hospital. And considering that they could either wait at the hospital, and slowly go crazy with worry, or wait at the IMF and do some constructive work, they knew which choice Ethan would have wanted them to make. So they began putting together all the information that they had so far. And it wasn't long before a picture started to form.

Ethan had been on his way home. Something or someone had made him pull over. The fact that Ethan had actually _let_ himself be stopped at that curb, led them to the assumption that he had met either someone he knew, or someone that he didn't perceive as a threat. And they knew that Ethan would have known if anything had been fishy. But from what they could gather, Ethan genuinely hadn't expected to get into a fight.

The fact that Ethan's gun hadn't even been drawn was gruesome proof to that.

They all knew how good a shot Ethan was. They had seen him on the shooting range and in the field. He was not only fast, but he was deadly. Had there been even the slightest hint that his opponent was a hostile, Ethan would have had his gun out, or at the very least put up one hell of a fight. But there was no sign of either.

Which meant Ethan must have made a conscious decision at some point to consider his opponent trustworthy. And there weren't many people in the world, that Ethan would have granted that status.

His friends. His team. And people who worked to protect others in the same way he did. Fellow agents. Or the police.

Which brought them back to what Jane thought she had heard Ethan say.

"So he definitely said 'police'? Not 'please' or something like that?" Brandt asked.

"Yes." Jane nodded, now even surer than before, "It was definitely 'police'. I just don't know if he meant that he wanted us to call the police, or if it was something else. But considering the whole circumstances of this attack and the fact that Ethan obviously let himself be pulled over by someone he considered trustworthy, I'm getting the feeling that we are looking at the possibility that this was done by someone who was wearing a police uniform."

"Which may or may not mean they were actual police," Benji made a valid argument, one that both Jane and Brandt accepted with a nod.

"Granted. But let's assume for a second that they were, and that this is why Ethan didn't simply ignore them," Brand countered, suddenly having an idea, "Benji, can you get us access to a satellite, anything that was covering the area last night?"

"I think so, yeah," Benji nodded, and he started typing several commands into his laptop. After a few minutes of clicking, Benji grimaced.

"Oh, uh… o-kay, I got good news and I got bad news."

Neither Brandt nor Jane were in the mood for this game, but in the end, Jane simply sighed:

"Alright, what's the good news?"

"Well," Benji said, as he continued to put in commands into the system, "the good news is that I have found a satellite that was covering the intersection last night. The bad news, however, is that it is a live-feed only satellite. Which means I can show you what's happening there now, but past feeds are stored only as cyclic images on a separate backup server for up to 24 hours.

The blank looks on Jane's and Brandt's faces made Benji elaborate.

"I can access the files from last night, but there is only one picture stored per minute, and it's in black and white."

"Do it." Brandt acknowledged, and together with Jane he took a seat next to Benji so they could all look at the screen of his laptop.

As they clicked through the time-stamped archive of full-screen images, hitting the 'next' button over and over again, they finally reached the time-frame during which the attack must have taken place. A few moments later, just as Benji was about to click 'next' on yet another full-screen image, Jane suddenly called out.

"Hold it!"

Benji immediately froze.

Brandt was only a second behind Jane, when he, too, noticed what she had seen.

"That's Ethan's car."

Benji took a little longer until he identified the black and white front of a hood just inside the lower-hand frame of the screen as part of Ethan's Mustang just getting into the picture.

"Alright, let's go forward, and slowly."

The next picture showed Ethan's car parked on the curb. From the bird's eye view of the satellite, they couldn't see Ethan, but the arm resting in the window frame had to be his.

One picture later, they saw two people standing next to the car, one on each side. The one on the driver's side was apparently speaking with Ethan. And whoever it was, he was wearing a police uniform.

The third picture showed one of the police men slightly leaning into the passenger window, while the other man was apparently about to open the backdoor of Ethan's car.

The next picture…showed Ethan on the ground.

It was a disturbing image.

But they forced themselves to look at it, to try and find what else they could see to identify the men who had apparently just shot Ethan in cold blood.

One of the police men was just on his way out of the frame, perhaps to move back to their car. The other man was apparently in the process of closing the backdoor of Ethan's car again. Why, they didn't know.

With a nod from Brandt, Benji clicked forward to the next picture.

That image, too, showed Ethan on the ground. He hadn't moved at all.

But there was something that _was_ moving, and going by the slight blur in the picture, it was moving at a fast speed. Just at the edge of the image, they could see part of a police cruiser going by Ethan's car. It had to be the car of two men who had stopped Ethan.

Uncharacteristically, it was Benji, who first found his voice again.

"Okay…that uh… that _looks_ like cops." Benji's voice was shaky, as he realized that Jane's theory was now not just a theory anymore.

Brandt merely nodded grimly.

"Alright, so we know they are cops. But what I want to know now, is _who _they are."

Brandt's voice left no doubt that he intended to accept no failure. They would find out who these two men were. And once they had found them, he swore that he would hurt them.

-o-o-o-o-

After a quick check with the Chief of Police, aided by the full backing of the IMF's Secretary and Benji's not-so-subtle threat to hack the police server, if the police didn't cooperate, the Chief of Police finally gave them the information they wanted.

They now had the entire police roster from last night, _all_ the numbers and names, telling them exactly who drove what car, in what precinct, and at what time. It also showed all emergency calls, all accident reports, and all break times.

And that's where they found what they were looking for. Only three police cars had been in the area of the shooting last night. Two of them a few hours before the shooting, on routine patrols. And the one remaining car had officially been on a break at the time that the attack had taken place. It had logged back on duty less than five minutes after Ethan had been shot.

Sitting on the edge of a table right across from Jane and Benji – who was already powering down his laptop – Brandt was now going through the last of the documents, searching for the names of the two officers who, according to the roster, had been on car number 427 last night.

"Officers Wilson and Corren…," he finally murmured.

Then he grimly looked up from the roster sheet in his hand and addressed Jane and Benji:

"I think we should have a little talk with these gentlemen."

The determined look on Jane's and Benji's faces was all the acknowledgement he needed. Without a further word they moved out. And they never even seemed to notice how everyone who happened to be in their path out in the corridor made it a point to hastily move out of their way.

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued…and I'm sorry that this chapter was a little longer than usual, I hope you don't mind._

_Up next: Okay, the team is on the warpath now. And how is Ethan holding up? Find out soon._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

By the time they left the IMF headquarters, they knew which police station the two men belonged to. Another five minutes and one telephone call later, they also knew that, yes, the officers were scheduled to be on patrol for today – which was to begin in an about an hour – and should already be somewhere around the squad room. All in all twenty minutes later, Brand's car pulled up to a halt right in front of the police station. And he didn't give a damn that he was standing right on the station chief's parking lot. Jane and Benji came to a halt with Jane's car right after him.

It was three very determined-looking agents who walked up the steps to the station. In fact, when they entered the station, they did not even pause at the reception desk. They simply walked right past it. They knew where they were going. The officer's squad room was in the deeper parts of the old police station building. The three agents were through the main hall before the entrance officer even realized they had moved by.

Inside the backrooms of the station, it was like a bee's nest. Officers were swarming all around them, left and right. This early in the morning, most of the officers were either just coming in or going out, which meant the squad's ready room, to which Brandt, Jane and Benji were headed, was a very busy place.

The general chaos of the place actually kept their presence unnoticed for a little while. When people finally started to notice them, some officers gave them surprised looks, wondering what civilians were doing in their squad room. Others – particularly those who saw the team's serious faces and took them for troublemakers – actually stopped what they were doing to concentrate on the newcomers with a careful eye.

One of the men, obviously a squad leader of some sort, suddenly noticed the change in atmosphere around him, and turned away from his locker to see what had made his men become silent all of a sudden. When he saw the three strangers in the room, he too was a bit surprised at first. Then, however, he became all business and approached the three newcomers in a matter that was to tell them they had _obviously_ made a wrong turn somewhere – and they had better do a quick 180 before they got into trouble with the law.

"Can I help you?" the squad leader addressed the suit-clad man at the front of this little group, but considering Brandt's complete failure to react to the question, the squad leader quickly saw himself forced to add with an annoyed frown, "This is a squad room, as you may have noticed. _Civilians_ aren't allowed in here."

"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone," Brandt replied, his eyes not even coming to rest on the squad leader as he kept right on searching for what he was looking for.

To put it mildly, the squad leader was getting ticked off now. And he was about to say something to that end, when Benji, who stood at Brandt's right shoulder, suddenly produced a sheet of paper to hold it right under the man's nose.

"These two men. Were are they?"

"Excuse me?" the squad leader asked incredulously.

"Officers Wilson and Corren. Where. Are. They." Jane repeated Benji's question with just a tad more punctuation, and a whole tad less patience.

Brandt suddenly started walking again – pushing right past the overtaxed squad leader.

"Never mind, I see them … Jane?"

Jane looked at where Brandt had been looking and spotted the men as well. Not even needing any words to coordinate, Jane let Brandt move forward, wordlessly having his back. Benji instinctively stepped slightly to the side, giving Jane a bit of room to maneuver, while he kept an eye on the squad leader to cover that end.

Wilson and Corren had just walked into the squad room from another entrance, laughing and joking, with Corren even hitting Wilson on the back of the shoulder after one particular funny remark. When they turned to go for their lockers, it took them a second to realize the unusual silence on the room. That, and the tension on their squad leader's face.

They didn't know what was going on, but, not being particularly worried - because their little side business was still very much a well-kept secret, thank you very much – they played it exceptionally cool, showing just a touch of surprise like everyone else. With an almost bemused expression they kept glancing between the approaching Brandt, and their squad leader, waiting to see what their boss was gonna do about these intruders, whoever they were.

Brandt, meanwhile, was headed directly for them. And while the two officers were still wondering which one of them Brandt was going to address, Brandt had one advantage. He _knew_ which one of these two officers had turned in his duty revolver last night with one bullet missing at roll call. The officer's shot report had it listed as a 'bullet fired at a stray wolf in a pedestrian neighborhood, probable hit, but no carcass'.

Someone should have told that poor excuse for an officer, that this particular 'wolf' had friends who seriously didn't appreciate the word 'carcass' in any correlation with what the officer had really shot at.

And it wasn't that Brandt was particularly fond of wolfs, or any other four-legged animals, for that matter, but he knew one thing for sure.

Ethan was one 'wolf' these two officers should not have messed with.

That thought was going through Brandt's head as he was moving towards the two officers, headed for one man in particular. And before anyone could react, Officer Wilson's face took a sudden turn to the left and down with a violent jerk, as Brandt's fist hit him right on the cheekbone with a severe crack.

The move instantly set everyone in the room in motion.

The cops suddenly yelled out, thinking one of their own had been attacked, and they began to run forward to aid their fellow friends. Jane, however, was prepared to react as well. With a move so fast that even some of the cops around her blinked twice at it, she drew her gun and her ID, getting everyone's attention as sure as if she had shot someone.

"Everyone hold it!" she unequivocally addressed the cops in the room, particularly those who had been about to move in on Brandt. Seeing that she had her gun already out, most of the officers in the room were actually smart enough to listen. To those who still considered drawing their weapons, she gave an added incentive to rethink the idea, by holding her ID just a little higher for everyone to see:

"I suggest everyone keeps their guns in their holsters and their tempers under control."

Her order obviously never even intended to include Brandt in that definition, because she didn't even blink when he roughly shoved the second officer, Corren, against the nearest wall and then down on the floor to join his colleague.

With efficient moves, and aided by two sets of cuffs courtesy of Benji's jacket pocket, Brandt then proceeded by securely cuffing the two men on the ground with their arms behind their backs. And he wasn't going easy on them. The cuffs were fastened tight. Painfully so. Then Benji moved over to help Brandt pull the two officers to their feet, mainly by using the men's cuffed arms as a leverage to pick them off the floor. A move that was sure to hurt.

At the instantly re-erupting calls of protest from nearly every police member in the room - led by particularly noisy comments from the squad leader himself - Jane chose that moment to speak up again, wanting to make one point particularly clear:

"We'll be taking these two men with us for questioning in a federal case. I _suggest_ you do not interfere." She looked at all the cops around her as she said this. "And you," her eyes finally came to rest on one very pissed-looking squad leader right in front of her, "you better plan your next roster _without_ these two men, because I can assure you, they will not be coming back here anytime soon."

At the now clearly dumbfounded look on the man's face, she added as a final address to them all:

"If you have any more questions, I'm sure your Chief of Police will be happy to explain to you all that you need to know. Feel free to give him a call."

And with that Jane moved slightly to the side to let Brandt and Benji pass with their two prisoners in between them, before she moved out with them, efficiently covering their backs.

Once they were outside the squad room, Jane was able to lower her gun almost instantly. Pretty much everyone between them and the exit was clearly on 'stand-down' and didn't even make a move towards them. Apparently, word of mouth – or maybe even an urgent call from one nervous Chief of Police – had gotten through to the officers in the halls and in the reception area, giving them clear instructions to not interfere. Jane could almost imagine the memo that must have been given out:

_Urgent note to all officers: If you see three fierce-looking people marching into your station at any time between now and noon, do not under any circumstance approach, anger or, lord forgive, be so stupid as to try and stop them. Just let them come in, take what they want, and let them leave again, and we might all live through today._

So they weren't even approached as they marched their two prisoners down the hall and on into the main office. From there it was only a few steps towards the reception area. The reception officer still looked pretty much baffled at what was happening at his station today. Jane simply nodded him a curt 'goodbye', as she was the last one walking past him on their way out the door.

Once they left the building, they made their way down the front steps of the station, with no further cops in sight. Merely one lone, early-bird banker, who was on his way to work, happened to notice the whole scenario from across the street, as they dragged out the two police officers in cuffs. The young man looked at them in obvious confusion, probably wondering if he should perhaps call the police. Neither Brandt, nor Benji or Jane gave him a second glance.

For all they cared the man could have called the President.

They couldn't have cared less.

–o-o-o-o-

_To be continued in the final chapter…..that is, if anyone is interested in finding out if Ethan's gonna wake up again? ;)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Three days later. Hospital. 7th Floor, Room 4.1_

They had spent hours in this room. Sleeping. Talking. Waiting.

It had been three days since they had arrested the two police officers. A second team had almost instantly taken over the 'care' for the two men, since even the Secretary had come to realize it might be a bit optimistic to keep Ethan's team in charge of safekeeping the dirty cops until they could be prosecuted. The team had eventually agreed. But only after the Secretary had reminded them that it would give them the chance to return to the hospital and stay with Ethan. That had been three days ago. And they hadn't left since.

Ethan had pulled through the first 24 hours. He also had pulled through the second surgery, during which the doctors were able to repair the damage to his lungs and also finally stitch up the wound in his side. Two hours after the surgery, Ethan was settled from the main ICU back to a more private room. That's when the team had moved in.

The doctors hadn't been entirely happy with how Brandt, Jane and Benji had practically set up camp around Ethan's bed. But once they saw that the team made it a point not to be in anyone's way, and that their patient actually seemed to be resting easier whenever one or all of the three agents were around, the doctors finally gave them their blessing. Not that the doctors had any illusions that the team would have left if given the order to leave. But the way it was now, it simply worked better for everyone around.

On the second day, late in the afternoon, the doctors had proceeded to slowly start bringing Ethan out of the coma. After that, as the doctors told them, all they could do was wait. The only one who knew if, or when Ethan would wake up again – was Ethan. And so far he hadn't. It wasn't entirely unusual, the doctors explained, and so far, they attributed it to the severe trauma Ethan had suffered.

Now, on this third day of waiting, it was shortly before 5am, with the sun just getting up over the horizon outside. Benji and Jane were still restlessly sleeping in the lounging chairs the nurses had been kind enough to set up for them in Ethan's room. It had been Brandt's turn to keep watch. A few minutes ago, however, he had shortly stepped outside the room to answer a call from the Secretary, as he expected an update on their two cops.

The Secretary had been rather forthcoming.

Courtesy of a few pointed questions brought up by the IMF's finest interrogations specialists, the cops had eventually spilled everything from their guts to their mama's favorite cooking recipes. They had been doing these stunts for months. And until three days ago, no one had ever gotten hurt. Looking at the incident from that angle, it was actually hard to say who was more unfortunate – Ethan for having gotten shot, or the two officers for having chosen Ethan to be their victim.

The IMF had been put in charge of the prosecution and would have a hand in deciding what would happen to the two officers. Even if no more victims were to come forward - and computer specialists were already checking every one of the officer's files for possible names of more victims - the minimal expected sentence was that the two men would never get out of jail again.

An attempt to kill one of their agents was always something the IMF didn't look too kindly on, no matter which day of the week it happened. But to try and kill one of their best, namely one Ethan Hunt, well… that kind of got you the Sunday Special treatment. Which meant that the Secretary had made it a point to put in an extra word somewhere behind the scenes.

And word on the street was this: Should any of the two men ever get out of jail again, either by parole, good behavior or even a computer fluke, they would not be dying of old age outside. Their best chance was to go to jail and stay there for the rest of their miserable lives, with all the comforts that being a cop in jail brought with it. The alternative was to die courtesy of an IMF orchestrated car accident. Or something equally painful.

You didn't mess with the IMF when it came to the well-being of one Ethan Hunt.

Brandt was glad to hear it.

Because if IMF hadn't taken care of this, he would have made sure Ethan's team would have stepped up to cover the bill.

As Brandt eventually stepped back into Ethan's room, he glanced at Benji and Jane, to make sure he hadn't disturbed them when he came back inside. They were both still asleep in their chairs. Then he looked over at Ethan, to make sure that everything was okay on that end as well.

And he found two eyes looking right back at him.

Brandt blinked.

Still, the image he saw remained the same.

Ethan was awake. Although, as it appeared, he was simply watching Brandt from where he laid on the bed.

For a moment, neither of them moved, only Ethan's eyes were tracking across Brandt's face, down across the floor back to his bed and to the IV lines in his own arms. Ethan was clearly trying to put his memory back together, but judging by the continuously lost expression on his face, he was mostly coming up blank. It was to be expected after what he had been through.

Ethan, for his part, really was having a hard time putting all the elements he was seeing together to form one big picture. He saw Brandt standing to his left. The bed that he found himself in, however, was a mystery. It looked like a hospital bed if those cables and lines were anything to go by. And the only thing he could remember was …wait... had he been… shot?

Ethan soon realized that he must have actually whispered out the last word, because Brandt nodded softly, as he slowly approached Ethan's bed.

"Yeah, you were."

Brandt's words, albeit also barely spoken above a whisper, were just audible enough for Jane to pick up on the fact, that someone was apparently talking with someone in the room. Benji, being the sound sleeper that he was, kept snoring softly.

Just as Jane's eyes began to widen, as she, too, saw that Ethan was awake, Brandt went on with a smile, speaking calmly so as to not overtax Ethan.

"But we got them."

Ah. That answered that question.

Now, just exactly _who_ shot me?

Brandt could practically see the question in Ethan's eyes.

And you didn't need to be a former analyst to know that this question was only one of many more to come, if Ethan began to put his mind to it. So they needed to put a lid on it right away, because right now, Ethan should not be asking questions, he should be resting.

The quick, pointed look Jane got from Brandt was all it took for her to immediately come to Brandt's aid. Straightening in her own chair right next to the bed, she calmly addressed Ethan from his right side:

"Don't worry about it Ethan. We got it taken care of. You just make sure you get back on your feet. We're on stand-down until you get back."

At that Ethan seemed to realize that Brandt wasn't the only one in the room with him. As Ethan slowly moved his head to the right, where Jane's voice had come from, he saw that there were actually two more people in the room with him - Jane AND Benji - and they were right on the other side of his bed. How he had missed them so far, he didn't know. It probably had something to do with the stuff that was going through that IV into his arm. It was making him…fuzzy….

In fact, he felt like he was already going back under, with sleep begging him to close his eyes again. He made a valid effort to keep his eyes open a little longer, because as he took in the sight of Jane and Benji, the latter was also waking up just now. Ethan did not want to miss the moment when his friend realized that this time around, out of all of them, it was actually Benji who woke up last.

Ethan's expectations were not disappointed. As soon as the drowsy Benji happened to glance past Jane towards Ethan's bed, their resident computer specialist almost jumped right off his chair in his hurry to straighten up as he realized that Ethan was awake. Even Ethan couldn't help a soft chuckle at the sight, although it hurt, _really_ hurt his side.

As soon as he had the pain under control again, Ethan looked around himself once more. He was still in the dark about what had actually happened, but getting the feeling that his team obviously had everything well in hand, he accepted that he wouldn't have to think about things right now. So, with a slow nod and a careful sigh, Ethan slowly relaxed a little. And he could already feel his eyes starting to close again.

As Brandt saw the exhaustion creep up on Ethan faster than even Ethan cared to admit, Brandt decided to help things along with a calming smile:

"Jane is right, we got this. You just rest. And once you're feeling better we'll just have another team night to make up for the one you missed." Brandt chuckled softly.

Ethan didn't know what Brandt was referring to, but seeing how Brandt seemed to have all angles covered, Ethan decided his best option was to simply agree. His team had his back.

"-kay.." Ethan whispered as his head slowly sank back into the pillow, his voice already heavy with sleep.

Then, as if he had one last thought he realized he needed to share with them before he allowed sleep to pull him under again, Ethan slightly raised his right wrist off the bed, beckoning Jane to move yet a little closer from where she was already sitting right next to his bedside.

Jane was quick to understand that there was something else Ethan obviously wanted to say to them, but for which he didn't have the energy to voice it out loud anymore. So Jane leaned even closer, until her ear was near Ethan's lips and she could actually hear his voice.

She listened closely as he whispered several words into her ear, before he visibly relaxed, and his head slowly rolled to one side as he fell asleep once more.

At first, Jane didn't move. Then a slow smile crept onto her face.

Brandt and Benji couldn't help but notice it.

"So, what did he say?" Brandt finally couldn't keep his curiosity to himself any longer.

Benji looked like he, too, would have paid big money for an answer to that question.

Jane took her time, as she slowly straightened up on her seat, and then, _only then_ did she look up to address both Benji and Brandt with a happy smirk:

"He wants to know if we kept any of Benji's cookies for him."

The only sounds that followed were a mild groan from Benji, and a hearty laugh from Brandt and Jane.

Now they knew that their patient was going to be alright.

_The End_

_-o-_

_-o-_

_Thanks for reading my story. I would love to hear from you if you liked it. Just click on the feedback button below and let me know what you think. :o)_


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